Kingdom of Earth and Sky
by phoenixreal
Summary: Fantasy AU: John is Prince of the Kingdom of the Kingdom of Earth, Bracken. In an attempt to stave off invasion from the God-King Moriarty of the Kingdom of Fire, Hildonia, Prince John travels to Skyland to in the cure the smaller Kingdom of the Wind as a Vassal state. The price, though, is to marry the Vestal Prince of he kingdom. Eventual Lemons, violence, war, noncon.
1. The Alliance

**Chapter One**

_The Alliance_

* * *

"Prince John!" came a voice outside the tent.

Inside, said Prince was almost asleep over the map of the continent. They were just outside the border with the Kingdom of the Wind, Skyland. The Skylanders were a flighty and constantly capricious lot to deal with and Prince John had his orders. Forge an alliance and take them as a vassal state to the larger and more powerful Kingdom of the Earth, Bracken, or use the might of his military to take them over by force and make their land part of the kingdom. John didn't want to do that. He hated forcing people into their kingdom, but currently, any smaller kingdoms not under their protection were at risk from the invaders from the east. And Skyland was far too close to the eastern edge of the continent for it to be left undefended.

"What is it?" he called.

"Sire, the entourage from the capital is here!"

John nodded, wondering who they sent. "How many?"

"Um, quite a few, but you'll have to see, one of them is chained and covered so I'm not sure what's going on." The voice outside the flap to the tent was confused.

"See them into the large tent and I'll treat with them momentarily," he said with a sigh and commenced putting on the official garb.

Great, he thought to himself. What had they done this time? These Skylanders were run by the Holmes family, a highly intelligent bunch from what he'd heard, and from what he understood, they manipulated the people very easily through their staunch adherence to their religion. Skyland was a place where there was a rift between worlds. The astral plane could be accessed there, making it strategically, a very important place. The entire kingdom had come about around the rift that allowed the astral beings known as angels to cross between planes. The people had come to revere them and treat them as gods. Sigrid Holmes had filled the necessary vacuum of power and formed the place into an actual kingdom, and he and his wife ran the place quite efficiently. Rebellion of their rule was unheard of and the people were happy and prosperous. They had two sons, Sherrinford and Mycroft, and it was rumored there was a third prince, though it was unconfirmed by Bracken's spies. Of course, it helped that the Holmes family alone had the ability to banish the other things that managed to come through the rift. Though rare, malevolent beings occasionally found their way through and somehow, it was unclear to the spies, the Holmes family could banish them back with ease.

John sighed. He hated these official duties. He hated leading the army, but he was the prince, and his friend and adopted brother trusted him. King Lestrade (or Greg as John called him) was the last in the Lestrade line. John had been adopted by Greg's father when he was an infant. Since, the Lestrade's had died out, and Greg had been unable to father issue with his wife. She had since passed, and now the fate of the kingdom's future rested on John since Greg refused to remarry. He thought it was juvenile of him, but only time would tell.

He buckled the decorative sword to his waist that signified him the general of the army, put on the small crown upon his sandy blonde head that signified him the prince of Bracken, and closed his blue eyes for a moment to collect himself. He then left his tent and went in the larger meeting tent they had set up. Bracken never met in the castles of the kingdoms they were taking over. By bringing them into their army's camps, they ensured the visiting princes and kings understood what they were up against by showing Bracken's might. And it was a great deal of might.

He placed his best diplomatic smile on as he emerged through the curtained area into the larger room set with a large round table and he could hear murmured conversation already. One of the men seated stood and came forward. He was a ginger haired fellow who walked with a decorative cane and wore a very delicate looking crown. He bowed a bit then extended his hand.

"Prince John, I assume," he began. "I am Prince Mycroft of Skyland. Father is ill, and I as second born, am his political representative. My brother Sherinford represents the military, I represent the diplomatic side of our government."

John nodded. "Have a seat, and let's get started," he said as servants went around and passed out tea.

John took a minute to look at the entourage he'd brought. He had two guards that stood behind him, and a servant who stood by the door. All were well dressed in the finery of Skyland, but what had John's attention was the figure that stood to the side flanked by two other strangely dressed men. The guards for this figure wore pure white robes and carried staves that had delicate looking chains attached that led to obviously some sort of collar the individual between them wore. John could tell nothing of this person, for it was covered in white robes like the guards, but also a white veil that completely obscured the face. Not a glimpse of flesh could be seen, the hands were covered in white gloves and he could see briefly that they were cuffed together with those delicate chains. On top of the veil, a round crown like metal band sat on the person's head. In fact, it was the only color on the figure, being silver like the delicate chains.

"Of course, you know of the threat from across the sea," John began.

"I do," the prince said with a nod. "And Skyland would not stand against the might of Hildonia. Their God-king has a hold on his people that is stronger than anything we have ever attained on our own, and that is saying something."

John tipped his head to the side. "You talk like you don't believe in your own religion."

Mycroft scoffed. "Of course not, it is ridiculous, however useful it may be. Calling the creatures angels and believing them some heavenly host. They are simply natives to the astral realm, just as mortal and normal as we are."

John smirked at him. "But you don't mind using the people's adoration."

"Of course not. By using their obsession, we keep them happy, and everything we do can be deemed the will of the angels. And if there is any doubt, we simply banish the dark things that go bump in the night," he said with a dismissive wave.

"Dark things?" John asked.

"Another native being to the astral plane, enemies of the Aerieals. I cannot remember what they call them, but the leader of the Aerieals gave us an artifact that is extremely effective against them," the prince of Skyland said with a sip of his own tea.

John blinked. "You have an alliance with the Aerieals?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Of course, it as easy enough to obtain. If it did leave us with…undesired consequences."

John didn't miss the fact that his gaze landed on the white covered figure for a brief second. "They desired a union with a human. My mother agreed. Their curiosity was satisfied, and in thanks they agreed to ally with us and continue to appease the people by appearing in support now and again."

John nodded. "I see. Now, about this…"

"Yes, yes, I already know your desire to add us to Bracken as a vassal state. This is agreeable, we can use the military protection. I perish the thought of this King Moriarty fellow getting access to the astral rift. However, out people will not take kindly to the idea of another nation entering our realm without an alliance with their precious 'angels'. So in exchange with offer you the third Prince of Skyland. If the people see him joined with one of your princes in union, they will believe that the 'angels' agree to the alliance," Mycroft said with a nod.

"Wait, what?" John asked, brow furrowing.

The prince sighed. "I told you, the Aerials desired a union with my human. The resulting child is my brother Sherlock. He is what is called a Vestal. His father is the king of the Aerials, his mother is my own. There are other Vestals in Skyland, but they are all taken as infants to the monastery of the angels and raised there, sequestered from society. They are seen now and again, but they are kept in the dark and silence when in public. They are only allowed to see their human parent under supervision of the Aerial parent, thought he Aerial parent visits frequently since the Monastery sits under the rift. The Aerials are quite fond of their human progeny. The Vestals are small in number, currently there are six at the monastery, my brother being the only one of royal blood. By binding him to you, we assure the loyalty of my people to you forever, essentially, because it will appear to be blessed by the angels."

John stared for a minute. "You expect a prince of Braken to marry your brother?"

The prince sighed. "It is either that or you are going to have a hard time controlling our population. They will rebel against you. And while smaller than you, we are a rather prosperous kingdom. And our alliance with the Aerials is worthwhile."

John rubbed his forehead. "I'm the only prince of Braken."

Mycroft smiled. "I know."

"I'm afraid it won't be possible, I have to marry someone to have a child, Prince Mycroft. The king is unable to sire children. I must instead do so," John said with a serious face.

"Then you are in luck. Vestals are able to bear children no matter their gender," he said with a smile. "They are freakish creatures, certainly, and I have little interest in what happens to any of them, especially this bastard brother of mine. Aerials are genderless creatures, able to morph their astral forms into anything. Thus a Vestal, no matter their human gender, also has an Aerial form in which they can bear children."

John blinked and looked back at his advisor. He shook his head. "Sire, this is necessary, we cannot waste our resources on trying to subjugate a population the size of Skyland's when we need all the men we can to defend against Hildonia's incursions. They've already taxed us in the defense of the Sea Kingdom. If they choose Skyland as a secondary entrance point, and we are fighting the population as well as Moriarty's forces, we will fail."

John nodded. "Very well, this is what must be," he said, glancing at the white dressed figure. "What must happen?"

"I will return my brother to the Monastery, the wedding will be announced tonight at services, then tomorrow, we shall perform it so that you may return him to Bracken," the prince said and stood with a smile.

"Doesn't he get a say?" John said, standing as the two white clad guards yanked on their staves, causing the figure to stumble a bit. He remembered that he said he was blinded and deafened in public.

Mycroft turned. "Of course not. He's a freakish commodity to be traded for peace, nothing more."

With that, the two white guards led the figure out of the tent and left John staring after him. He looked over to his advisor, a man named Stamford. "Mike, is it just me, or does that seem especially cruel?"

The man nodded. John had actually been raised with Mike, they were around the same age, and had trained in the medical academy together. Despite being raised a prince, John was not excluded from learning and trade. He'd chosen medicine, which was far more advanced in Bracken than anywhere else.

Mike sighed. "John, he may be better off with you than he is now. If what he said is true…he's had little to no human interaction. And to be kept all your life closed away from everyone and everything? I can't imagine…and the way he talks about him…he has little regard for him."

"Right, well, send off a rider to inform Greg. I swear, the things I do for politics…" he muttered, standing and heading off to his tent. At least he'd remembered to pack away his formal attire. Who knew he'd be getting married on this trip…

"The king will expect a full wedding once we return," Mike pointed out and John nodded.

"Yes, I know, this is simply for their eyes," he said with a sigh. "Arrange the necessary transport with the monastery people, make sure we are doing everything in line with their traditions. We want to make sure that nothing goes wrong. Set up with their guards to ready the barracks for our troupes, if they don't have enough, set up the builders that will be needed."

"How many will be returning to the capital with you, sire?" Mike asked, scribbling notes on a parchment.

John sighed. "We'll leave the majority here as planned, I'll take back two units, leave seven here. So we'll only need provisions for two hundred for the return trip."

Before long, the preparations were made, and John fell into his cot. The next day would begin at dawn where he had to present himself to the monks and nuns of the monastery.

-oooooo-OOOOOO-oooooo-

The next morning brought the sun rising as John stood at a spot just outside the door to a huge monastery that allowed the sun to shine through a gap onto him as it rose. It was all for show. Apparently, any who wish to wed a vestal had to be "approved" by the angels. If the morning sun didn't shine on the person, they were turned away. The chances of that were slim, of course. So as John was illuminated by the sunlight, everyone around him cheered. There was a massive gathering of the commoners around the monastery. John was led into the entrance chamber and sat at a lush set of couches and told to wait while they summoned the Vestal's mother.

A short while later, he was given a light breakfast as the Queen entered and sat across from him at the opposite couch and took breakfast.

"Prince John, a pleasure," she said formally, sipping a juice that John knew not the composition of, only that it was very sweet.

"Yes, Queen Violet. I am looking forward to this alliance for the protection of all," he answered, formally in return.

She nodded and silence weighed on them. "Will the king come to the event?" he asked.

A look of sadness passed her face. "I am afraid not. This child was not of his blood, he is delighted to see him taken from Skyland, to be honest. I love my boys, all of them, even this poor soul. He cannot help what he is, and I would hope that you would treat him with more…care."

John frowned and nodded, unsure what exactly she meant by that statement. Had he been mistreated? He assumed he would be revered and protected since he was a creature of their angels. Before long, the trays were removed and he was led with the Queen to a large, open balcony. He stood and looked down at the massive crowd gathered below.

"It is curiosity. A Vestal may only be revealed once bound to another. This will be the first time any have seen what my son looks like," she explained. "And if you are rejected by his father, he will appear and take him to the astral realm."

John blinked. "Does that happen?"

She shook her head. "The Aerials do not concern themselves with the Vestals once they are adults. My son hasn't seen his father since he was twenty years old. I'm afraid I haven't seen him since then either. Vestals are not permitted to see anyone after twenty except the monks and nuns of the monastery. However, exceptions were made for him as a prince. His brothers and father were permitted to visit, though the king only visited once."

"How old is he now?" John asked as the crowd continued to swell.

"Twenty six," she said.

John nodded. This was so strange, to be kept away from everyone like that. "Why are they kept isolated?"

"To avoid human corruptions," she said. "The laws of the religion state that humans are imperfect, and only those that have purified themselves by visiting the astral realm with the court of angels may interact with the Vestals. My other sons and husband have been to the court of angels, as have the nuns and monks, therefore they are allowed to interact with him. I have not been there. It is of course, ridiculous, but it is a part of the religion these people cling to so desperately. We cannot change it, if we do we lose their blind allegiance."

John, frankly, thought the whole thing was insane. To restrict behavior based on some archaic laws written about beings that weren't even "holy", they were simply not understood… He shook his head as the crowd cheered loudly. He turned and saw that a man in resplendent white robes and a tall, white and silver headdress had appeared in the doorway. He moved forward and stood and looked over at those gathered.

"My children!" he called out, and was met by cheers. "Today is a splendid and wonderful day! The angels have blessed us by sending a bondmate for one of our Vestals. And it will solidify an alliance blessed by the angels that will bring protection and hope to our people from hence forth!" More cheers were heard. John was beginning to understand why this was so important. "The kingdom of Bracken has sent forth its only son to wed the royal Vestal of Skyland!" The cheers were thunderous at that.

There was a pause as the high monk turned as four guards with chained staves led the white clad figure out to stand beside the monk. John and Queen Violet moved forward to flank him. The four men with the staves stood behind the Vestal, the chains clinking against the metal staves. John wasn't particularly fond of this tradition. They claimed that the Vestal was chained to protect it from being stolen away by the darkness of the astral plane. He thought it was perhaps to keep them from running away.

"Prince John of the kingdom of the Earth, the brilliant and strong kingdom of Bracken, do you knowingly and willingly take on the bondship of the most holy Vestal Prince?" the high monk said, his gray eyes somewhat menacing among all that white around his face.

John nodded. "I do take the holy Vestal Prince as my bonded mate."

There was a long silence, and John was growing uncomfortable. Then there was a strike of light from the astral rift behind them. It could only be seen when active, so this was John's first glimpse of it. It was really quite simple, a rift in the air that glowed and then faded.

"The union has been approved by the angels!" the high monk announced and the cheering rose in volume and pitch. "The time of revelation has come," he said, moving forward and removing the crowned veil slowly, revealing the man underneath. John frowned deeply.

He had longish black hair in wild curls all over his head. His eyes, though, were covered by a blindfold of white, and a gag of sorts was fitted into his mouth, sealing his mouth closed as it covered his lips and chin and clasped at the base of his neck. Over his ears were a pair of oval disks that were likewise attached to the mouthpiece. He turned his head back and forth, obviously feeling the absence of the veil. He was ethereal, in reality, his skin so pale it was nearly translucent. He had sharply defined cheekbones, and John couldn't miss the hollowed appearance under his eyes and set into his cheeks. His neck was also long and sinewy looking, with a thick, heavy collar of silver set with diamonds and rings that the chains attached to. He could see the rapid rate of his breath under the robes that clung to him. As a doctor, he knew that underneath the robes he would be painfully thin, unhealthily so.

The crowd made a collective gasp and then started clapping rapidly and John glanced at the Queen, who had set her eyes on the ground. There weren't going to remove the blindfold, gag or ear covers? John was led forward then by a nun who wore the white robes. The four men with staves came forward and unhooked the chains from the silver collar he wore and stepped back. The nun pulled a thicker silver chain from a satchel at her waist and clicked it loudly onto the large ring in the front of the collar, causing the man to flinch. John hoped they had at least told him what was happening, but somehow he doubted it because his breath became faster. Or perhaps they had told him, and that was why he was getting more anxious.

The nun handed the end of the chain to John. It was about four feet long he guessed. The end had a leather covered loop of chain for the handle. He held it and grimaced at how heavy it felt. She then lifted the bound hands of the Vestal and removed the delicate chain that connected the two cuffs that matched the collar. She clicked the cuffs directly to each other, again, getting a flinch out of the Vestal. Then she snapped another length of chain, about a foot or a bit more, to the connected cuffs and then to the collar's ring, bringing his bound and gloved hands to rest just below his breastbone.

She turned and spread her arms. "It is done! The bonding of the Vestal to Prince John has been completed. The prince has been given the chains of fate, and no more does the Vestal Prince belong to the Monastery of Angels and the kingdom of Skyland. The Vestal Prince belongs now to the Kingdom of Bracken!"

More applause broke out and through the chain John felt the trembling in the body before him. No doubt he was scared. He had no idea who John was, or what would happen when John took him away. And he was treated as property? It was disgusting to John, but he would take him away. But he smiled, being the perfect diplomat and held the chain high, not missing the flinching through it. How strange it must be, to be deprived of the senses like that…

"It is my duty as prince of Bracken, and my pleasure to take on this responsibility for the Vestal Prince! May prosperity and peace fall upon you because of my sacrifice!"

His stomach turned at the words. They said that taking a Vestal was considered a sacrifice, because you sacrificed having a normal life thereafter. The rules of taking care of the Vestal were extensive, and frankly, John intended to follow none of them once outside the kingdom's borders. He stepped back, pulling as gently as he could on the chain. It was not permitted to touch the Vestal in public, according to their tradition. He led the Vestal through and to the banquet room. He seemed to know every inch of the place without his eyes, which told John he was quite used to being blinded.

Once in the banquet hall, he was seated to the right of the high monk and the high nun, who took up the two seats at the end of the table. The Vestal was led to sit on the opposite side from him, the chain snapped into a slot on the back of the chair. Food was served, but the Vestal's place remained empty. He sniffed the air, John noticed, every now and then. But he supposed with smell the only sense left to him, he had no choice. John made polite conversation, answering questions and glancing at the Queen, who had been permitted to sit beside her son, though she was unable to speak to him or touch him in any way. John realized he has smelled her, and that he was much more relaxed with her beside him. His heart nearly broke. He decided that if it was the last thing he ever did, he would change this. There were six others treated this way and it was wrong on so many levels.

There was a ball afterward, where all the nobles blended with the monks and nuns and the Vestal sat alone at the side of the room once the tables had been cleared away. John saw him tense when the Queen would walk away and relax when she returned. Again his heart ached. He knew her scent though he hadn't seen her in six years. Finally, the ordeal was done, and John left to go give his signature to the political documents at the castle, and then returned, taking up the cursed chain again and led the man out the door to the waiting carriage that would take them to Bracken. The high nun and high monk assisted him into the carriage, securing the chain to the clip they'd added the night before inside. They bowed and John entered and sat opposite the younger man. He wanted to rip away the blinders, but he had to wait until they were well outside the kingdom. Removing them would cause an incident, so they had decided to wait until they were an hour at least inside Bracken's borders. Which wouldn't be until well after dark. But it would have to be that way. John leaned back and decided to nap on the way. He woke when one of the guards shook his shoulder.

"Time to camp for the night, sire, we forged on about two hours inside the kingdom. If we set out at dawn, we'll be home before lunch tomorrow, but it is a moonless night so we have to stop," he said with a sigh.

John nodded and unclipped the stupid chain and led the Vestal to the tent his men had set up for him. There were two cots, and he smiled to himself. He wondered what to do now as he stared at him standing in the lantern light. He sighed. Part of him wanted to remove the chains and the blindfold and everything. But if he did that, what would he do? He would be frightened, alone, and surrounded by strangers heading to a fate he was unsure of. No, he would have to leave him as he was. But food was brought and he figured that removing his gag was the least he could do, and maybe the ear covers. But would it be too much? He hated that he was debating whether to unblind and undeafen someone or not.

He looked to see him smell the air as the food passed him, and John nodded. He put his hand on his arms and gently steered him until his legs hit the cot and pressed down until he sat. It had been how the nuns guided him to sit so it would be familiar. He reached around and unsnapped the mouthpiece, and pulled it away, dropping it to the cot with a clinking sound. John blinked. He had a beautiful set of lips, a perfect bow graced the top one, and the bottom was full and lush. The reddish color stood out stark against his pain skin. There was a slight purplish line where the mouthpiece left a faint bruise against his jawline. John frowned at that. He wanted to unchain him but he wasn't sure that he wouldn't run.

He instead picked up a piece of bread and pressed it to his lips. He started violently, nearly falling over, and John put a hand on his shoulder, pressing gently. He put the bread to his lips again and he slowly opened his mouth to accept it. He chewed and looked confused as he swallowed. John though perhaps he hadn't had bread before, as he fed him a few more pieces, then put a piece of the roasted fowl into his mouth. John couldn't see his eyes but he saw his dark brows shoot up and he smiled. So, no meat either. He accepted everything John gave him, but of course, John had no idea if he liked it or not because he could have hated it. He had a feeling that he would eat whatever was given to him.

John then pushed him to lie down and didn't miss the tension that the motion caused in him. Just what in the nine hells had they told him? John clicked the chain onto a loop at the leg of the cot. He then left and made sure there were a couple guards outside his tent all night and to make sure that he was okay periodically and to wake John immediately if he was in distress. He then pulled his own cot next to him so he could respond it he needed to do so. He laid down and then covered the Vestal up with a blanket. He pulled his own up and then it seemed that no time passed until he woke up to mumbling beside him. He blinked and looked over to see that he'd pulled himself into a tight ball and was talking in his sleep.

"Tired…" he muttered. John propped himself up to listen. His voice was lovely, he thought to himself. A low baritone voice and very cultured sounding. "Wanna sleep, brother," he muttered head turning a bit. "Please?"

John frowned and laid a hand on his shoulder. He was facing away from him on the other cot. He rubbed his shoulder gently until he relaxed into sleep again. He wondered what that was about? Begging his brother to go to sleep? Was that why he was so shocked at being laid down? He had so many questions, but they would be answered tomorrow, he supposed, and he fell asleep with a hand on his shoulder still.

The dawn brought breakfast and an equally surprised vestal as he was fed again. John wondered just how often he was used to eating. He frowned. Wait, had he even gone to relieve himself? He grimaced. Of course, how would he tell him? Would he? So he fed him, gave him water and then led him away from the camp and wondered how to tell him he could relieve himself. So he pressed a hand to his bladder gently and the reaction of pain of immediate, so he obviously had to go. John unclipped his hands from the collar, and released the binding between them. His hands immediately went to his robes frantically. John turned and gave him a bit of privacy. That was stupid. He wondered how long he'd had to go? By the sound, quite a while… When he was done, he didn't bother replacing the bindings, but kept the chain on the color. He thought since he was awake, that was sufficient, but he seemed confused. He sat in the carriage again and Jon jumped in across from him.

The Vestal….Sherlock, John told himself, he had to use his name… didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. Finally he put them in his lap and sat with his head down. John noticed he stayed like that most the time, head down. So many things that John would stop him doing once home. Finally, they were greeted with cheering as they were home, and they went to the castle yards. John led him gently through the crowds to whispered discussion of why the Prince was leading a chained man to the castle. He went immediately to the throne room where Greg sat snoozing upon the rather plain throne.

"Greg!" he yelled as soon as he came in, and the man started.

"I wasn't sleeping!" he announced, standing up and stumbling down from his seat.

"Yes you were, old man," John said as he clasped him in a hug.

Greg frowned and looked at the man that was being led by John. "What is this?"

John sighed and shook his head. "According to the Skylanders, my property. This is the 'bargain' I sent you message about. Their religion dictated that I marry their Vestal Prince. I agreed because it was either that or the alliance was going to fall through due to the fact the people would have rebelled. They take their religion very seriously."

"And why is he still chained and is he blinded and deafened?" Greg said, frowning as he walked around the tall, dark haired man.

"Well, I was afraid that it would be overwhelming if I removed all of that. It was bad enough when I took out the gag and then unhooked the wrist cuffs…he wasn't too sure when I did that at all, and almost had an anxiety attack. He was raised alone, with only monks and nuns around him, and occasional visits from his brothers and mother, but in public he was put in blinders, ear muffs, a gag, and everything covered up in white robe and veils, and led around by these guys with chains on them." He held up the chain. "They told me it was the chain of fate. Because he's fated to be owned by someone for the rest of his life because he's half angel."

Greg frowned, touching his hair and causing him to flinch away. "Half angel?"

"The rift there, there is a race of beings called Aerials, and to make an alliance with the Skylanders, they demanded to have a union with a human to cement it. The Queen agreed and this young man is the result of that. They sequester the half humans until they are bonded to another. And apparently, either gender can bear children in the Aerial form. They're a type of shapeshifter, from what I gathered while I was there. The Holmes family keeps power by using the religion to control the populace, so even the Queen's child had to be taken to the monks that live under the rift and commune with the 'angels'. They think they're some sort of holy beings," John said with a sigh. "Mike thought it best to agree, because if the God-king across the see comes and claims the rift, he may gain control of Aerials or their enemies the dark ones. We couldn't chance it so I took the binding ritual and agreed to a Bracken wedding on my return, so that was in the missive I sent you."

"Okay, so you've got to marry him in our laws, then, to make any children legal to be the heirs…" Greg said.

"And this also binds us to the King of Aerials. He's his father, and the Queen of Skyland is his mother, which was another reason I agreed. Having allies in extradimensional creatures is of benefit to our kingdom in the long run," John said. "But first, I think we should try and acclimate him to our ways, because there is no way I'm going to do what they told me to do with him. I am not treating him like a damned piece of property or like an inconvenience."

Greg nodded. "Does he even know what's happened?"

"I have no idea. He doesn't speak, even when I took the gag off, and seemed surprised to be fed. So I think first we take him and change him into something more appropriate, get the blasted cuffs and collar off, then take off the sensation blockers. I don't want to overwhelm him too much at once, so I'll take him to my quarters, since I can lock it. We'll leave him there until he can be used to being free of these…things," John said.

Greg nodded. "Agreed. I'll send for someone to bring clothes and food for him. Just plain clothes for him?"

"Yeah, I'll change too, that way he sees that I'm equal to him. I think he's been treated more like a slave than anything else, though from what I've seen, a strange sort of slave, but he's had no free will in their society," John said, tugging on the chain and initiating him moving.

He carefully led him to his chambers. They were simple, other than the awful wall with the floral paper on it, but his sister had chosen it so he left it. He again pushed him into sitting on the bed, and when he sat he gasped, feeling the softness of it.

"Not used to a real bed, I see," John said as he went and changed his clothes into tan pants and a plain white shirt.

In a few moments, Greg came in, similarly dressed in plain clothes but with his crown still. He was king, after all. He handed the clothes to John who tugged the Vestal to standing. He came easily and he started to undo the buttons of the robe. Again, he tensed like he had when he put him in the cot. Again he wondered what he though was expected of him. He rubbed a hand on his shoulder and he seemed to relax a little. John found, unsurprised, he wore nothing under the robes, and surprisingly, he had been groomed of every stitch of body hair. John glanced at Greg who looked back surprised at it. John wondered if it had been done just for the bonding or if it was something that they always did. Or if he was just naturally like that…

He took the chain off the collar and a tremor passed over him and John again brushed a hand over his shoulder gently. The motion again assured him like it had the night before in the tent. He then pulled the shirt over his head, and he saw the wrinkling of his brows at the motion. John carefully threaded his arms through it and he remained with a confused brow line. John then pushed him to sit, and tugged on a pair of pants over his bare feet and then tugged him up and tied the string on them to tie them. He pushed him back down then leaned over and gently took off the ear pieces. He sat utterly still and John wondered if that was a part of it. He seemed comfortable with this removal. He then smiled.

"Sherlock?" he said and his brows raised. "I'm going to take off this collar and these cuffs, okay? Then I'll take off the blindfold. I've shut the curtains so the light doesn't hurt your eyes."

He nodded slowly and held out his wrists. John smiled at Greg and unhooked them with some difficulty. They obviously were made to be opened with two hands to ensure he couldn't get them off by himself. He winced as he held his arms. It was obvious that the cuffs had been on him long enough that there was a thick red ring around them and the skin underneath was raw and irritated. He shook his head and went to take off the collar. It required two people.

"Greg, I need your help here," he said softly.

He held down the one side with two hands while Greg released the catch on the other and the thing popped open to reveal that his neck was red and irritated from extensive wearing of the collar as well. He sighed and shook his head.

"I'm going to remove this blinder now," he said gently and reached around and released the catch on the back. He pulled away the blinder and watched carefully.

The first thing John noticed was his eyes were simply stunning. They flickered between light blue and light green, sometimes settling on one for a minute, sometimes less than a second. His face was quite distinguished looking with wide eyes, and full lips. His hair tumbled about his face in a dark frame of wild dark curls. He stared at the ground right at John's feet. John kneeled and looked up into his face, getting a shocked gasp out of him.

"Hey," John said, smiling at him. "I'm John, and this is my brother, Greg. He's the king of this place, and I'm the prince. What did they tell you?"

Sherlock couldn't fathom what this was about. His bonded was on the floor instead of him. This was not what he was expecting. He had already been confused before.

"I…am permitted to speak to you?" he asked softly, trying to look away from John's eyes.

John swallowed thickly. "Yes, good gods, yes, you can speak to me. I want you to speak to me."

Sherlock nodded. "But…but what do I say to you?"

"Whatever you want…but I really want to know what they told you yesterday and the day before about me and what was happening. I want to know what they said," he said soflty.

Sherlock tried to not look around, and John could see he was resisting great curiosity. "I…am the Vestal Prince. I am the property of the Monestary of Angels and the Kingdom of Skyland until I am bonded. Then I am the property of my bonded mate. You are Prince John of Bracken. I am the property of Prince John and the Kingdom of Bracken now. I am a burden upon the mate. The mate has sacrificed his freedom to choose other mates for the duty of taking care of the Vestal. The Vestals are not permitted in public. The Vestals are not permitted to speak, sleep, eat, or act without the permission of the bonded mate. The Vestals will submit willingly to whatever the bonded mate wishes. The Vestal has no mind of its own. The Vestal must be whatever is required by the kingdom of the mate, even death should it be required. I am not to question my mate. My body does not belong to me, my soul belongs to the angels."

Greg and John glanced at each other and blinked. The verbatim telling was either practiced extensively or he had a photographic memory. He was still avoiding his face in every way possible.

John shook his head. "Dammit, that's what I thought. You've spent your life being told that, haven't you?"

Sherlock looked at him for a moment. "I am the Vestal Prince, I have no other life. That is the fate of the Vestal. Royal or not, I am merely a Vestal."

Greg sighed and sat heavily in the large chair behind him. "Johnny boy, you got your work cut out if he's going to be able to handle the Bracken style wedding. I had called in everyone immediately to set it up for tomorrow, but I'm not sure…"

John shook his head. "No, they saw him come in, there will be questions if we don't complete the ceremony. The sooner the better, we don't want the Skylanders accusing us of not following through on our end of the bargain."

Sherlock swallowed and looked down. Bargain. That was right, that's what he had been. Mycroft had come and told him that his life had been bargained away in exchange for the health and happiness of the people of Skyland. The people of Bracken were ruthless, he said. He told him to expect the worst fate imaginable because they were not a kind people. He would be lucky if only the Prince used him. He should expect to be expected to be a part of their drunken nights of debauchery. And he had to remember it was all for the kingdom. He swallowed hard despite himself. He hated this. Every bit of this. His mind still echoed with the strikes from the whip. The wounds were glamoured, a simple spell that all of his kind could do. Mycroft had said when he argued about being wed that he had to remember his lessons for the Prince of Bracken would dole out worse. He winced as his head dropped and pulled on the wound.

"Are you in pain for some reason?" came the question in front of him. His eyes went wide at the question. _Never admit to pain._

"No, m-my lord," he said quietly.

"You're lying," John said, frowning. "Look, I'm not one for rules, okay, but my number one rule is don't lie to me. At all, about anything. Tell me the truth, even if you think it willmake me mad. I want to hear it."

Sherlock gasped at the strong tone to his voice and nodded. "I'm sorry, sorry, m'lord, please don't punish me, we're told not to admit to pain no matter what…" he said softly, almost too soft to be heard. "My…my brother said….said you would be harsher than he had been."

John frowned. "Punish you? For what? Come now, what hurts you, please, tell me," he said smiling gently as though dealing with a child.

"Where my brother punished me day before yesterday," he said softly. "It is still sore, I am sorry to have shown pain to you, m'lord."

"No, stop that right now," John said, standing up, drawing Sherlock's gaze upward. "Don't call me 'lord' or 'highness' or anything like that. Ask that bloke, I hate it. John is my name. Please, use that."

Sherlock nodded. "John," he said softly, still avoiding his eyes.

"That's good, now what did your brother punish you for?" he said, frowning. "And with what, you have no wounds…we changed you from the robes when you came in here…"

Sherlock bit his lip. "I…I didn't want to be bonded. I didn't want to leave home. He…he was angry that I spoke against what I was told. He used what he always uses, the Repentance. I…I cover them. It is part of the angelic blood."

John nodded. "Greg, get my kit. And you, uncover them, and let me see what was done."

Sherlock was torn. On the one hand, he was being commanded by his bonded mate, but on the other the rules of the Vestal stated never to show wounds to anyone. He began to wring his hands. "Sherlock, please, you are not a Vestal anymore, okay," John said, kneeling before him, and pushing his chin upward to look in his eyes. "Forget those rules. I'm your mate, right? The only rules that matter are the ones I tell you now."

Sherlock wasn't sure but nodded, closing his eyes for a second, and a glow encompassed him briefly. When it faded he looked away. John lifted the shirt over his head and sighed. "How often did they do this?" he asked quietly. Sherlock couldn't look at him.

"I…I was not cooperative most of the time."

To his surprise John started to laugh as Greg came back in. John looked back at Greg and took the box from him, sitting it on the bed, shaking his head.

"Lay on your belly, Sherlock," he said and the previous vestal complied.

"You laugh at me?" he asked, confused as he laid down, still tense.

"I laugh because they tried to beat your will out of you from the day you were born, and until as recently as two days ago, they couldn't do it. You still think I'll have a hard time, Greg?" he said, looking up from the obvious wounds inflicted by a horse riding crop that ran across Sherlock's back. "Seriously, there are scars on him on top of scars Greg. Sherlock did you pass a week without getting beaten for something?"

Sherlock had buried his face in shame in the bed. He shook his head. To be laid out so, it was shameful. "Damn, I'm glad we got you out of there," he said, smiling as he rubbed a thick ointment into the red wounds and scars. It was his own creation, and would not only heal them faster but would reduce the scars to nearly nothing. "Where else have you scars?" he asked, standing after he'd applied white bandages across his back.

He was unusually still and John sighed. "I'm going to finish treating you, whether you tell me or not. I am a doctor too, you know," he said with a sigh and stripped the pants off his thin hips finding, as he suspected, scars on the back of his thighs and buttocks. He quickly applied the scar salve and then had him sit up once he'd replaced his trousers.

"There, now," he said as he scanned his front. "Gods and devils, how often do they feed you? You need to gain weight, I can count your ribs," he said.

Sherlock glanced up at him. "Food is a privilege for the Vestals who obey," he said softly.

John put both hands on his hips and stared. "So, basically, if you did anything except exactly as you were told you were beaten and starved. And by the looks, that was quite often."

Sherlock didn't answer, only ran his hands over the deep red grooves in his wrists. "That's going to change," John said, reaching down and taking his hand, running a thumb over the red area. "I don't know what they told you about me or what Bracken was like, but considering how afraid you've been since I walked out of the city's gates you've been, I get the idea I wouldn't like to even hear it. Bracken is a place of equality between all people. Even kings are equal to the crafters in some ways. I attended school to become a doctor with others. King Greggy boy here is an excellent guardsman on the side. And the other nobles have trades as well. More than that, you are not my property. You own yourself in Bracken, you have been wed to me, despite the fact neither of us decided on it. But that is okay. We will make due with things as they are like many who have arranged marriages have. But you will _never_ be beaten or starved. You will never be made do anything you don't want to do. Do you understand?"

Sherlock swallowed, brow knitting. "But…but…I'm not very likeable most the time. The monks…they called me rude and obnoxious and said that I wanted to know too many things and I ask too many questions. They said that telling people things that I see is bad…"

John frowned. "Things that you see?"

Sherlock nodded. "I don't know where it comes from, but I look at people and I just see things other people don't see. The monks didn't like it because I knew when they were having carnal relations with the nuns…I'd always receive a stern beating for that. So I stopped telling them anything…"

John laughed out loud. "That's magnificent!" he said with a smile. "Even after all that, you still did something like that. I think you are a glorious person, Sherlock. We're going to get along just fine, I think."


	2. Acclimation and Prepartion

**Chapter Two**

_Acclimation and Preparation_

* * *

What was left of the morning and early afternoon was spent setting up the wedding, the feast and the ball afterward from within the Prince's chambers via Mike and others running messages back and forth. The short notice limited those in attendance to those from their kingdom, but that was sufficient for their purpose. John stayed in his rooms with Sherlock most of the time, doing most the talking as he told Sherlock all about Bracken and what the kingdom was like. He seemed to absorb every bit of information he gave him, which amused John to no end. He still was unwilling to speak much, but John figured that it would be okay.

They decided that he would wear his Vestal's robes for the wedding, and John would wear his formal attire again. John sighed as he realized he had to leave the room to finalize plans with the various heads of the areas in the castle. He needed to arrange with the guards, the kitchens…and Greg was particularly worthless at this bit. Simply sending messages was going to take all the bloody afternoon.

He glanced at Sherlock finally. "You can read, right?"

Sherlock nodded. "It was basic skills necessary for all Vestals."

"Okay, then come on, I'm taking you to the library," he said, reaching for his hand.

Sherlock hesitated and then took John's hand and but froze at the doorway, eyes wide. John turned back and frowned at him and then sighed. _Vestal are not allowed in public_ rang through John's head. He remembered that he'd never been outside private chambers without being blinded and deafened with layers of clothes over him.

"Not a Vestal here, you're my intended. You do not have to hide. Come on, now," John said, giving a firm tug on the bony hand. Sherlock followed hesitantly. Guards and people passed them and Sherlock tried to look down every time. John was certain that habit would take a long time to go away, though he noticed that even though he ducked his head, his eyes would cut upward to try and take in as much information as possible without seeming to do so. This, more than anything, made John smile. It was a small thing, but it meant that his spirit was far from broken.

John opened the door to reveal the castle library. Sherlock stopped and gaped at the sight. He had never seen so many books and scrolls. An older woman with curly hair sat behind the desk reading. She looked up and smiled.

"Prince John! I heard you were back," she said, coming over and hugging John fiercely. Sherlock was still staring around him, seemingly so focused on the room stacked with tomes and papers that the whole place could have burned and he wouldn't have noticed it.

"Lady Hudson, how are you?" John said with a smile back.

"Good enough, who is this?" she said, looking over the new figure.

"Lady Hudson, my dear, this is my intended, remember the announcement that I was to be wed on my return? This is my soon to be, Sherlock. He's from Skyland," he said with a smile.

"Oh goodness, I've never been, I hear it is a nice place, dear," she said, but Sherlock just looked at her blankly. She looked at John. "Is he okay?"

"Sherlock, you can talk to her, she used to be one of my many nannies, and now she takes care of the library here. I'm going to leave you here while I go finish up some duties," John said with a smile.

Sherlock's eyes widened. "But you can't leave me, I can't…I don't…what…" he stammered, glancing around the room where there were other people looking at books. A few had noticed the entrance of the crown prince and were smiling in their direction.

John put his hands on either arm. "Hush, now, calm down. You will be fine. Lady Hudson here is going to take care of you and stay right beside you. I trust her like my own mother. Think of her like that if you want. She's kind of like my mother. Like family."

Sherlock nodded, still unsure, wringing his hands. "Lady Hudson, he's a little…afraid to be out and about. It's a long story, but he was the Vestal Prince and…"

The old woman's eyes widened. "Oh my goodness, love, no wonder you're in such a state!"

John frowned. "Let me guess, you know about them…" The blasted woman knew everything about everything it seemed.

She nodded. "Of course, dear, I do read a lot. There are stories in several tomes about the Vestals of Skyland, and a few about the rumored Vestal Prince. Who knows if the writing is true, but I am betting what they said about them living sequestered in their Monastery without contact with normal humans was true, wasn't it, my dear?"

Sherlock just looked at her and nodded once. She winked at John. "Come on, dear, I have some books I bet you would love to read while John is taking care of his duties."

John smiled and left while he was distracted. Goodness, he thought to himself, he was really like a child in so many ways. Of course, being kept in a gilded cage still amounted to being kept in a cage.

Some hours later, John returned, exhausted to the library and stood with a smile at the doorway. Sherlock was sitting at the largest table surrounded by piles of books. Lady Hudson was handing him a new one. She looked and saw John and came over to him.

"I've never seen anything like it," she said quietly. "He reads faster than anyone I've ever seen. He can tear through a full tome in less than half an hour and quote word for word what was in it…."

John nodded. "The family he is from are rumored to be above average in intellect. I had my suspicion he had a photographic memory."

"So his mind is like those picture things that Jase down in the research likes to tinker with?" she asked.

John nodded. "Photographs, that's what they call them, Lady Hudson. Anyway, it seems that way. He remembers everything. How much has he read?"

"Everything on the table…" she said softly. John arched a brow. He'd only been gone five hours.

John nodded and walked over to the table and he looked up, standing quickly as he approached. John sighed. "Hey, ready for something to eat? I'm starved."

He blinked and glanced around him. "I…I should put this back…"

"Nonsense, dear, leave it. Come back and read some more later," Lady Hudson said with a smile and patted him on the back.

He nodded and smiled at her gently. John was surprised. He hadn't show this much affection toward anyone yet, but then, Lady Hudson was a motherly figure. And Sherlock's mother had been his only source of comfort it seemed. He led him into the kitchens and found that the more people were around the tighter he hung onto John's hand. Despite himself, John liked that a bit. It made him feel important. He turned to him.

"What do you want to eat?" John asked.

Sherlock looked confused. "What do I want to eat?"

John smiled. "Yes, we've got about anything, I imagine, I mean, maybe not some of the things you're used to but we can see if we can't put something together."

"I…" Sherlock began and stared at the expectant servants who were waiting for whatever the prince and his intended one wanted. The kitchens were in an uproar, filled with cooks and the like preparing the feast for the next day and the noise was great. Sherlock's eyes roved the entire place in moments, seemingly taking in all the details at once, and John was once again amazed at watching him. He pulled in information like a magnet. He seemed to miss nothing.

"But…they're busy…I don't need anything…" Sherlock said, looking around.

"You haven't eaten since this morning!" John said with a huff. "And neither have I. I'm starved so you must be as well," he said with a nod of his head.

"But I ate today," he said almost absentmindedly. "And yesterday too…that's too much…" He was looking around as he spoke.

John frowned and turned Sherlock to face him. "Sherlock, how often did you get to eat at the Monastery?"

Sherlock bit his lip and debated telling John or not. But then he remembered. His mate had one rule he had to abide by, not to lie to him. "Every two or three days…" he said softly. "I told you, Vestals receive food for being obedient. I wasn't very obedient…"

The cook in front of them gasped. "My heavens on high, that changes now, you will eat three times a day here, I'll make sure it is taken to Prince John's room every morning, noon, and evening if you aren't in the common dining room or down here getting it!"

John grinned at the older man. His name was Barry, and he was an amazing cook, and head of the kitchens. He frowned as he looked over Sherlock, who stood uncertainly. Barry was a burly man; over six foot two, with a heavy black beard and thick arms from butcher work and carrying food from the fields. He preferred to gather his own supplies. He reached out and before either John or Sherlock could react, had lifted up Sherlock's light shirt and tutted loudly.

"Nope, not going to be happy until I can't count those ribs, boy," he said with a sharp nod as he dropped Sherlock's shirt.

A moment later, Sherlock and John were sat down at the large kitchen table with a huge spread of samples from the meal for the next day. Sherlock stared at it for a long moment. John reached out and grabbed a plate and heaped a load of glazed carrot onto it with a grin.

"Grab whatever you want, love," he said with a smile to the dark haired man.

Sherlock tentatively took the plate and took portions of several things, all very small, but quite a few things. He looked to John. "I don't know what any of this is…" he said softly as he stared at the plate. "The Vestals were fed a pure vegetarian diet. I…am unsure what any of this is, nothing looks familiar."

John smiled and pulled his chair closer to him and then began to tell him what each thing was, letting him try it and then decide what he liked and what he didn't. John was sure that it was progress. At least he was willing to decide things on what he wanted and didn't want. It was a brilliant thing, he thought, to see the personality that had been suppressed for so long. John smiled and leaned on his elbows on the table.

"So tell me, what did they tell you to expect from me and Bracken?" John asked, curiosity finally getting the best of him. "I think it might be interesting considering that we received word that your brothers and mother were going to be able to come for the wedding tomorrow afternoon. I understand they left earlier today, so I'm glad we didn't postpone the event…"

Sherlock's eyes widened and he swallowed nervously, sipping the goblet. "I…well, I was told that the Kingdom of the Earth was a violent place where your people were known for drinking and lewd behavior. They said that you had a massive military and that should you choose to invade the Kingdom of Skyland we would fall to them, and it was my duty to make sure that alliance was made…even if it meant I had to give up my life as a Vestal. And…that…I'd be lucky…if you were my only…claim."

John blinked. "Wait, you were told that we were marauding barbarians. That's why you were so nervous?"

Sherlock averted his eyes to the side. "I…I was terrified of what would happen, and since I wasn't permitted to see or hear anything until I was in my new chambers…they said nothing would change. I…was your property and if I wasn't careful, I'd not survive the trip to my new home. My brother said that you would be cruel and merciless and I'd be expected to be a…I'm not sure what he expected me to become, because my knowledge of what these concepts are is sketchy at best. I do not understand many things about the physicality of people."

John sighed deeply and took his hand. The red rings around his wrists were fading well, surprisingly quickly. John guessed it had to do with the blood of the Aerials. "Do you know differently now?"

Sherlock looked up and nodded slowly. "Unless you are lying to me, you are very kind, and I enjoy being here…"

John smiled at him. "I don't lie, though it seems that your brother and others gave you some very untrue tales."

"I see that now. I like to be with you and Lady Hudson. And the King is very kind as well. Much kinder than my previous king…" he said, staring at the hand clutching his. Somehow, the very feeling of contact with John made him feel more comfortable.

John smirked. "So, tell me, how is it that such a creature as yourself, both lovely and princely, managed to annoy everyone around you so badly?"

Sherlock looked more nervous and went to pull his hand away. John held tightly to it. "Nope, I want to hear this. I've spent most the day talking and tomorrow we're going to be married by our laws, and I want to know a bit about the one I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with."

"I just…I'm not supposed to talk about what I was punished for…" he said, glancing at the hand in his.

"And I've told you, you aren't a Vestal here. Not anymore."

Sherlock nodded. "I told you about the seeing things others miss. I just…I pick up things that other people seem to miss. But I rarely can discover anything about people because of the fact I don't know enough about the world around me. The monks, they would lay with the nuns now and then, and…I have a rough idea what that means, but they would smell like each other and something else I had never smelled…and no one seemed to notice but me. I just picked up and I would say something about it and I would be punished for it. But I look at you and I don't know because everything I know is…wrong."

John nodded. "You spent your life closed away. You only ever saw your brothers, your mother and the people at the Monastery. I bet that makes the broader world you see now confusing."

"Yes," he said, nodding and looking around. "I'm beginning to put things together, with the reading I was doing. Like I know that here, in Bracken, that being looked at isn't bad. I know you were an orphan because I read it in one of the history books, and now I'm putting together what things about you tell me that you were an orphan, and then when I see those things in someone else, I'll connect those things together, and know their status as an orphan. If that makes sense." Sherlock fiddled with John's hand and ran his fingers along the palm and stared at it as he spoke. "I knew a lot about the nuns and monks. I could tell them who they'd been with, what they'd eaten, if they'd left the monastery that day or not, and a lot of other things. They didn't like it much. And I always knew when they were punishing me for something before they did. I could tell how harsh they would be too. But I couldn't understand my brothers. I suppose because they were from outside."

John stood slowly. "Let's go up to our chambers. We've a long day tomorrow, and we can talk there until you fall asleep."

Sherlock nodded, looking as the kitchen staff cleared away the table. Barry looked at the plate. "You did not eat much, boy!"

Sherlock flushed and looked down. "I'll try to do better," he muttered. Barry's eyes widened and he put a hand on the slight man's shoulder. "Hey, there, don't. I don't mean nothing by it, boy. Listen, I know you can't eat a lot yet, from what Prince Johnny here said, you aren't used to it. Just do what you can."

Sherlock looked at him and nodded a bit. Barry smiled and clapped his shoulder and turned away. John didn't miss the worried glance the older chef cast their direction as they left the kitchens. John was glad that Barry was the head of the kitchens. He was a good man, painfully good, and before he had been injured in battle, he'd been one of John's highest ranking men. After the injury took him out of duty, a devastating injury to his kidney that meant another hit could kill him, he indulged in his other passion, cooking. He made an asset to the kitchen in more than one way. He trained the cooks and servants to defend themselves as well as cook.

John led Sherlock into their chambers and rummaged through his dresser for sleeping clothes. All his sleep pants were too short, so he found a long sleeping gown and handed it to him. Sherlock stared at it for a moment.

"To sleep in," he said with a smile.

Sherlock frowned. "I don't sleep in this?"

John, who had been pulling out his own pajamas turned and stared at his confused look. "Of course not, those are clothes to wear in the day. They aren't comfortable enough to sleep in. Wait, you didn't change for bed?"

Sherlock shook his head. "My robes were my only clothes. I had two regular sets, one to wear while the other was being cleaned, and then I had the formal robes I wore here. I suppose they were comfortable enough…"

"Well, change into that gown to sleep in. I'm going to the bath to change into mine so you can have some privacy."

Sherlock watched him disappear into the large room with the tub and the facilities. His mind was working rapidly, as it had been since Mycroft had appeared and told him he was leaving. Everything was overwhelming, to be honest. He pulled off the clothes he was wearing and slipped the sleeping gown as John had called it over him. This country was enormous, and he had so much to learn. He knew he had merely scratched the surfaces in the library. He'd read most of the history of the land, which completely was opposite of what Mycroft had said.

Mycroft said they were barbaric people that raped and pillaged their way across the vast continent. In fact, they weren't. Most of their lands were gain in peaceful and mutually beneficial ways, and there were many vassal states under them that were allowed to keep their own sovereignty. Skyland had been given that option and taken it. The Kingdom of the Forest had done the same, as had the Kingdom of the Sea. And Bracken defended both as it did the kingdoms that had simply become part of the larger kingdom like the old Kingdoms of Vastern and Traledorn. They had both been small and Bracken had offered to bring their kings in as nobles of the Bracken court. They had obliged.

Mycroft also said that Sherlock would be little more than a slave. He had said that he would miss his days of being treated so well. But now Sherlock realized he had _not _been treated well. He didn't think he had been. He had been denied books and knowledge from the time he was old enough to speak. He had been whipped for the first time when he requested to keep a reading primer after the lesson was done when he was only three years old. After that, he was punished nearly daily for many years it seemed.

So now Sherlock wondered if Mycroft had lied to him on purpose. Had they all lied to him? They all said that he had only one purpose, and that was to glorify the kingdom. He was a bastard child of the Kingdom and his worth was measured in his ability to bring glory to that kingdom. And the first time Mycroft had told him that he had told him that it was wrong. That had been the first time he'd been beaten with the "Repentance". He had been six, and had spent weeks in bed after the wounds had become infected and a severe fever had taken him. And so what was true and what was false? Could he trust anything that his brothers had said?

He sat slowly on the soft bed without thinking and thought. Of all the people in his life, his "father" had been the only one to be honest with him. "King" they called him of the Aerials, the angels. Sherlock had the religion drilled into him from infancy, but his real father had told him the truth. The truth that no even his brothers and his father knew, the truth that had made him want to rebel against what he was told from a young age. He'd only come to Sherlock twice. Once when he was five years old, and again when he was fifteen. Termasculak was his name, though the humans called him the king. He wasn't really a he or a she, rather a shape shifting creature made of astral material. The unification of the Aerials and the humans was so much more important than they had let on. It wasn't simple curiosity. It was so much more than that. But they couldn't trust the humans. At least not Sherlock's human family. Maybe these humans? Sherlock still remembered the last visit with his father.

_The air was charged and the teenaged boy knew that it was his own father that was visiting. The entire place was in an uproar because the king of the angels rarely visited, and when he did, he brought a retinue of angels with him. But this time, his purpose was merely to see his child. Even as the monks and nuns prepared below, his figure appeared in Sherlock's room and settled into a semi-solid state on the floor beside the teen's bed. Sherlock smiled, feeling the peace roll off the shifting figure's body._

"_My child," he said in some strange blend of whispered wind and airy flutes. "This is my last visit, but I came to wish you well, for your journey ahead is long and difficult. Remember that physical torments are brief, and release will come in an unlikely form. Accept the release, and know that I do not wish you to suffer as you have."_

_He was a mass of shifting colors, blinding to a human in this form, with brilliant orbs of greenish blue that flashed in his face. There was no discernable mouth or nose, simply the vague shape. He reached out a hand and took one of Sherlock's. Immediately, Sherlock's form released, shifting into the merging colors and he melted into the form beside him, mixing and blending the two bodies and then separating. Sherlock's mind had been given everything his father knew, and he had given his father everything he had known, and in the Embrace, they had shared a love that humans could not understand. Only two creatures of astral form could share the Embrace._

"_You will come to your own, my child," his father said softly. "This human form, it is you and it is not, remember this. These humans are cruel and unjust, and if it were not for your future, I would take you to our astral home. But there is more for you to do here. You have a destiny written in the astral currents, my little one. Human and Aerial blood shall find the child of Human and Kerdone blood. And together, they shall bear peace."_

"_What does it mean?" Sherlock asked, eyes shifting madly between the blue and green. "Aren't the Kerdone your enemies? The dark ones?"_

"_They are. We have been locked in battle with them for longer than our records or memories can recount. And we are weary of battle. We thought the humans would be the answer, but instead, they merely worship us. No, they are a path, you, my child are the answer. I must go, and I will not see you again. Remember."_

_And then, he was gone. Sherlock had fallen unconscious, his form still immature and unused to releasing. He'd been out for nearly four days. Then he'd been punished for speaking to his father without permission, and made to fast another three days. By the end, he was so weak from hunger that he couldn't leave his bed. This fact only led to another punishment for refusing to do as he was told._

"Sherlock?" John's voice. He blinked and looked at him then scrambled to his feet.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I…was thinking. Where shall I sleep?" he asked, looking around for a cot, and he wondered briefly if he would be relegated to the floor.

John sighed. "On the bed, like a normal person, come on now," he said and shoved him toward the large bed. There was more than enough room for two people to sleep very comfortably. But Sherlock stiffened as he laid upon it.

"Sherlock, what did I tell you earlier?" John asked, propping himself up on an elbow and looking down into the younger man's face.

Sherlock struggled to remember in the face of the anxiety that was washing over him. Mycroft had told him there were "expectations" of a mate. And he wasn't sure, even with all the assurances that John had given him, exactly what that meant.

"I just…I was told that a mate is expected to do certain things and that I shouldn't question it and I've heard it so many times…" he said, hands balled into fists at his sides.

John put a hand on his shoulder, maintaining nearly an arm's length between them. "Sherlock. You are not expected to _do _anything except what you wish to do. An arranged marriage in Bracken is not some sort of servitude, which I suppose is what you were told."

Sherlock shook his head, placing a hand on John's where it lay on his shoulder. "No, I know nothing of these arranged marriages of yours. I only know of the Vestal's bonding. And from youth, we are told that we belong to the mate because we aren't human, therefore we are not equal to them."

John caught the twitch in his eye as he spoke. "But you never believed that, did you, you wily thing, you?"

Sherlock looked at John, and saw the subtle smile on his lips and Sherlock couldn't hide the smirk. "No, I didn't. I never believed it because my father, my real father, told me that I was equal to humans, only different, but I had to bear being treated as less until I was released from my servitude. I really always thought that meant when I went to live in the astral realm…"

"But now you're not so sure?" John asked, squeezing his shoulder.

"I…don't know. I am here, and you tell me I am not in servitude any longer. But…it is so hard to believe…" he said with a tired sigh. "I thought that you taking me as a Vestal Mate would end in my death because I had so much trouble being a good Vestal for the monks, how could I be a good Vestal for a mate every moment of every day?"

"But that's not true at all, is it?" John said with a soft smile.

Sherlock turned and stared into the dark blue depths and swore he saw purple swirling into them for a moment. Perhaps it had been the light. He shook the idea away and sighed and turned to face John. "What does this arrange marriage mean? I was not to that part of my reading yet," he asked, finally.

John smiled. "Marriages are when two people love each other and decide to be together and perhaps have a family together. Arranged marriages happen when political forces have two people that may have never even met marry each other. For the sake of their own happiness, and that of their kingdoms, they make the arrangement work, and many times, fall in love along the way."

"Fall in love?" he asked, frowning.

"Yeah, you know, when you feel happy seeing someone, when they make you happy…wait, didn't they teach you about love and all that stuff?" John asked, brows knitting together.

Sherlock sighed. "I know of the concept of love. I loved my family and my kingdom, but that isn't the same, is it? They did not make me feel happy."

John smiled at him. "Are you happy now?"

Sherlock blinked. "I…think…yes."

"Good, now go to sleep, we have a big day tomorrow, and I intend to make sure that your irritating brothers leave here knowing just how much I intend to take their instructions on taking care of you as a Vestal and shove them," John said and leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on the dark haired man's forehead.

Sherlock gasped and watched as John settled in and faded off to sleep. He reached up and touched the place that his lips had touched. He'd never had someone do that. Not even his mother had been permitted to touch his bare flesh with her lips… He fell asleep with a strange feeling in his chest that he could not explain in the least.

-oooooo-OOOOOO-oooooo-

Sherlock woke the next morning to the sound of people shouting. At first he thought he'd done something and the monks were yelling at him but he sat up and found John was standing half dressed, his hair still wet from the bath and telling someone quite loudly to get the hell out of his room first thing on his bloody wedding day. John grumbled and shut the door, turning around with a start when he saw Sherlock staring back at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you," John said, buckling the leather and metal braced formal pants. "I've had the maid draw a hot bath for you if you want to have one before we get today started. I'm afraid that after this morning, you'll be going with the Lady Hudson to prepare while I will go with King Greg to do the same. You see, it is superstition here for us to be seen together before the ceremony, so Lady Hudson and the ladies will get you situated. I also have some other duties to attend to, such as welcoming the visitors while you get ready. Now, don't worry, and remember, be do not fear being yourself."

Sherlock nodded slowly from the bed as he watched John finish with the formal attire, strapping the belt on and sighing. There was a knock, and he opened it to reveal Lady Hudson with three chittering girls behind her.

"Shh," she scolded as she came in. "Now quiet! Prince John, we've come to whisk away your intended, are you off to welcome the guests?"

John nodded. "Yes, please, stay with him, he's a bit nervous with all these people about, you know."

"Don't worry, love," Lady Hudson said and smiled at Sherlock who was staring at the spectacle of the three younger women.

All three were dressed in fine dresses, one in light pink, one in blue, and one in yellow. They all had their hair done up high on their heads and wore a lot of face paint. The women he'd seen at the monastery had all be nuns and wore no face paint or had their hair done, and since then, he'd only seen Lady Hudson, who had short curly hair and wore a long, plain dress in dark blue the day before. Today she was similarly clad, though her dress was a brighter blue color. And the three girls looked alike, their hair all golden and their eyes all blue. Even the structure of their faces was similar, not quite identical but extremely close to each other.

"Sherlock, I'd like to introduce you to my nieces, Carla, Serendipity, and Diane. They're triplets actually, so don't worry if you can't tell them apart, love. Now, out of bed with you, breakfast in the kitchen, then off to the dressing room. They've brought your robes after they were cleaned, and we intend to dress them up a bit," Lady Hudson said as she took Sherlock's hand and led him into the bath where the water steamed the room. "Now, bathe quickly, dear. Did you bring anything else with you besides the robes you wore?"

Sherlock stepped into the warm water with a sigh. "I think John put everything I had with me in the bag he left by the bed," he said softly.

Lady Hudson smiled and opened it and blinked. "What?" she said quietly, lifting out the items and placing them on the bed one by one.

Serendipity, the one in the blue dress, came up and stared. "Auntie, is that a collar?"

The older woman nodded and turned it over in her hands. It had a complicated lock, but was made of fine platinum and adorned with diamonds and crystals. She then picked up the cuffs and found them in similar state. The other two girls frowned and looked over them. Carla (in pink) picked up the blindfold.

"This is made of silk, and old…" she said, fingering the soft imprints on the back where it had formed to Sherlock's face over the years.

Diane held up the gag. "Auntie, this is a gag? What is all this stuff?"

Lady Hudson sighed. "Put it back, you'll find chains in there too. Prince John said he will not be put back in this horrible stuff again."

"Put back?" Serendipity asked, handing the collar over. "You mean he wore this?"

"The Skylanders treat their Vestals, those that are half human like he is, like pampered slaves. That's why he's so skittish, my girls. So be careful with him, he isn't used to being around people. He was raised among monks and nuns and not allowed to leave without this on him. Any trips outside were in this state of sensory deprivation…Now, Carla, go take this robe to him and then we'll take him down to the dressing chamber," she said, closing the bag and leaving it on the bed.

Carla returned, the slender man following her. "Oh, you did find the Vestal bindings," he said, touching the bag. "My brothers are here he said…won't they be upset if I do not wear them as I am supposed to?"

"Dear, you are not wearing that," Lady Hudson said.

"Did you really wear that stuff all the time?" Diane asked from behind him.

Sherlock frowned. "It is a Vestal's duty to wear the bindings of their station. The Vestal is property of the kingdom of Skyland until they become the property of the mate, should they ever be taken…" He shook his head. "I suppose that is the old ways, but I still feel strange without the bindings," he said, rubbing his wrists thoughtfully. "We should bring them…in case."

He reached down and grabbed the bag and turned to face Lady Hudson and the nieces. She smiled wanly and nodded, leading him out of the room and down through the corridors toward the chambers that he would get ready in. Already, several servants were flitting about, bringing in various things. Lady Hudson motioned for him to stand on the pedestal in the center.

"Carla, bring the robes from the rack," she said. "Do you have underthings, my dear?" she asked, taking the white garment from the pink garbed girl.

Sherlock frowned and tipped his head to the side. "Underthings?"

Lady Hudson looked up. "You know, things that you wear under your robes?"

"The robes were the only thing I was permitted to wear…" he said, looking around at the three confused girls and the Lady Hudson. "I…do not know what you mean by underthings."

"Okay, Carla, go get Master Hillock. Tell him to please hurry, and explain the situation. Tell him the robes are white, so he should have white underthings. Perhaps a silk shirt and pant to be comfortable since it will be a long day," she said and the pink clad niece disappeared. "Step down here, and we'll do something with that hair of yours."

Serendipity took a comb and fought with the unruly curls and after half an hour, she gave up. "I give, Auntie, his hair does not wish to be tamed!"

Lady Hudson shook her head. "I believe it will be fine. Prince John did say he thought he had lovely hair. Bring me the measure so I can fit his crown, Diane," she said and was passed a tape of sorts by the girl in yellow. Sherlock rolled his eyes up and she wrapped the tape around and marked it with a coal.

There was a knock and an older man with a balding head and a bag slung over his shoulder wobbled in with the pink dressed girl. He came in and dropped the back at Sherlock's feet making him jerk away at the sudden noise.

"Oh dear, sorry, m'Master Hillock, but y'can call me Hill, all em noble'uns do. Now, I hear y'don't have no underings?" he said staring at Sherlock, who looked more than a little unsettled by the closeness of the shortsighted man.

"Here, Hill, give me the things. You're frightening the poor thing," Lady Hudson said and shooed him away. She went through the bag and pulled out a sleeveless shirt of white silk and a pair of short pants of the same material. She held them up. "Put this on, love. Girls turn your back for him," she said, waving at the triples. They all turned around and Sherlock slipped on the garments. It felt strange to have something so close to his skin. Yesterday was strange enough.

"Oh, Lady Hudson, I should have the bandage changed before I wear something white, I'm afraid my back has not healed entirely, though it has mostly…" Sherlock said suddenly remembering. He would be mortified if he got anything on such a pretty shirt as this.

Lady Hudson turned back with a frown. "Bandage?"

"Ah, yes, I have a bandage on my back that John put there yesterday, can you change it or should he do so?" he said as he pulled the silky shirt off again.

"There is nothing on your back," chimed one of the girls, the one in yellow.

Sherlock blinked. "Oh, yes, sorry," he said, and closed his eyes, the soft glow covering him before the glamour dropped. "I forget, I place it on myself without realizing it."

He looked up to find all four women were staring at him. He nearly replaced the glamour. "Lay down, love," Lady Hudson said, stepping forward. "Carla, go get the kit from the bath. Bring that salve that Prince John mixes."

Sherlock lay down on a sofa and winced as she pulled away the large bandage John had put on it. "What did this to you, love?"

Sherlock was already getting tired from the excitement. It was a lot of activity for someone who spent most their days locked in a room alone. So he wasn't really aware of what exactly he was telling them, his mind mostly on automatic when he was sleepy like this.

"The Punishments for disobedience," he said as he felt her fingers rub the salve into the healing wounds. "They are not bleeding yet, are they? They had not stopped yesterday. But it usually only takes two days to heal past that stage for me," he said as he felt her place the cover on his back and tape it with the sticky adhesive that John said he also made.

"No, they are healed over enough that they are no longer bleeding," Lady Hudson said and he sat up and smiled, absently rubbing at the red rings on his wrists. "I'm glad Mycroft decided to be easy as it was…" he said to himself.

"Mycroft is your brother," Lady Hudson said. Sherlock looked up and nodded.

"Of course, he often aided them with the duties at the monastery…" he said as he stood. "I did have a habit of not listening to him when he came by. This is the result of arguing with one's brother…"

He grabbed the silk shirt and slipped it back on and turned and realized he still hadn't replaced the glamour when he faced a full length mirror. He stepped forward and examined the marks left from the collar. "I've never seen myself without it…" he said thoughtfully, fingering the deep red marks that still marred his skin. It would take a while for them to go away. He brushed fingertips over the purplish marks that had been left on his jawline from where Mycroft had pulled the gag far too tight after he'd been punished.

The girl in blue stood beside him and looked into the mirror. "Why did they do that to you?" she asked, her eyes meeting his in the mirror.

He sighed. "I am…was…considered property. My brother said…I was a commodity to be traded for peace and nothing more. I did not know any other way, but I knew that I thought it was wrong. And I did not like it. So I paid the price for wanting to be free of them, I suppose. Though I did not know why I said things that brought pain to me. I just knew I had to show them that…I was still alive. We…those like me that are half human…the Skylanders consider us beneath them yet we are worshiped at the same time. It is…it makes no sense. To be revered yet be beaten for not being obedient to their wishes."

Lady Hudson put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him around. "Well, you are here now, love."

Sherlock closed his eyes and smiled. "I should return the glamour…"

"No," Lady Hudson said with a shake of her head. "No, you shouldn't hide anymore, love. Don't cover the marks. They show where you've been, and they show that dear sweet Prince John has released those terrible bindings."

She suddenly smiled. "No, I believe it should be a part of the ceremony…Carla bring me those things. I'm going to alter them. You go out with the regalia of the Vestal, and John removes it, replacing the crown of Bracken. It will show everyone that you are no longer property of anyone, but an equal…"

Lady Hudson took the bag and sat down while the three girls led Sherlock to the pedestal and dressed him in the formal robes. They were relatively simple and they looked him over. "Needs something," Diane said, and disappeared. She brought back a pair of silver sandals, and put them on him, lacing them up.

Serendipity came back with a silver chain belt and wrapped it about his waist, cinching it tight, giving the robes a bit of a shape rather than the rather lumpish look. "There," she said. "Auntie, what is the rule for the marriage of two royals? They can't be on equal foot, right? Someone has to be the higher in rank…"

"Dearie, John is the first in the marriage because this is his kingdom, remember?" Lady Hudson said from the next room.

"Ah right. Now let's see, a little kohl, and a bit of this…" she said and Sherlock just stood and let them flit around him. Before long he stared at himself and the robes still looked the same but a bit different. The silver belt showed where his hips lay, and the bit of color to his face made his eyes even brighter. The red rings around his wrists and neck stood out starkly, and he wondered if he shouldn't just glamour them when Lady Hudson came up and turned him about.

She reached out and replaced the cuffs with a simple latch on either side. They were loose around his wrists and not confining. He smiled as he held them up. They'd never felt like decoration before… She then put the collar around his neck, where it likewise attached at the back with a little latch that was easily undone.

"They weigh less…" he said curiously.

"I took out the weights. They were quite heavy," she said, dropping several pieces of heavy metal into Sherlock's hand. That was the amount that they had weighed before.

He turned and smiled at himself. It was familiar but not at the same time. The sleeves of the robe had been shortened so they didn't cover his hands now, instead falling just below his elbows. The neckline was cleared out, and when John removed the cuffs and collars, the evidence of their long wear would show brightly. But now, he didn't seem to mind it.

"I think you will surprise him, but first I'll let him know the change in using the symbols of the cuffs and collar during the ceremony," Lady Hudson said. "Girls, get him some light lunch, and for goodness sake, don't get anything that could stain his robes before the ceremony! Only a couple hours left!" With that she spun out of the room to find John.

John was at the moment welcoming what were perhaps his least favorite people, with the possible exception of Queen Violet, into the castle's antechamber. He smiled as he had a servant bring them a cart with tea and juice. Mycroft had come with his mother, but the other, Sherrinford, had chosen to stay since their father was still ill.

"Good day, Queen Violet, Prince Mycroft," he said, as he entered the room. The Queen smiled but Mycroft simply gripped the curved top of his cane tighter.

"The ceremony will be soon, will it not?" he asked dryly.

"Yes," John said, "And I'll be bringing in some of our nobles that I believe you would find it advantageous to speak to, they offer some good trade options to Skyland."

At that, he saw the man's shoulders relax. So he was fine with coming to work, but not to watch his brother wed in another kingdom's laws. John sighed and heard someone calling him. He saw Lady Hudson. "Please, excuse me, matters of the day call, I'll have Lord Anderson and Lady Donovan escorted in so you might discuss some things. Something tells me you'll get along with those two splendidly."

He paused and told the guard to send the two most annoying nobles in his kingdom in to talk with Mycroft. Maybe they'd annoy him. They were so annoying, especially considering they were having an affair that everyone knew about that they thought was secret. Event their spouses knew, but no one spoke of it. They were nobles after all.

John smiled at Lady Hudson. "How is he doing?"

She smiled. "I think well. But I convinced him to remove his glamour and we thought you could use that godsawful collar and cuff in the ceremony."

John frowned. "What? Those hideous things?"

She smiled. "I removed the extra weights from them and fixed them so they fit more like jewelry now instead of how they were intended. I thought it would be a show of power in front of that horrid brother of his if you removed them before everyone and discarded them, to show that they have no more power over him. It may help him with getting used to life here…"

John thought it over and nodded. "Yes, you're right. That would be perfect!"

"Prince John! New arrivals for you to greet!" came Mike's voice.

"Take care of it all, Lady Hudson, I'll see you shortly!" John said, and headed off to the entrance again to welcome another pair of noblemen he didn't recognized. Lord Scott and his companion or something, he thought.

The dark haired noble, declared Lord Scott and his blonde haired companion called Lord Damien, smiled as they entered the antechamber where Queen Violet and Prince Mycroft of Skyland were in a discussion with Lord Anderson and Lady Donovan of Bracken. They made polite conversation as other lords and ladies came in and went out. If no one recognized the two noblemen, no one mentioned it. It was a large kingdom after all. And there were quite a few nobles spread among the vassal states and the annexed areas.

Lord Scott smiled as he watched and took in information about everyone around him. Who knew what information would come in handy down the line?


End file.
